


Maid for you

by iloveitblue



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, F/M, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 14:29:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6427669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveitblue/pseuds/iloveitblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha is getting married. Guess who the Maid of Honor is?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maid for you

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so. When I started writing this, I was watching too many wedding movies and I was like: "I REALLY want to see Natasha in a wedding dress now." and then the Barton_bb happened and I was like: "Oooh. Ultimatum." and then, this was born. It's basically a mish mash of The Wedding Planner, 21 dresses, Made of Honor, Bride Wars, What's your number (yes, I know this isn't a wedding movie but Anna Faris' sister was gonna get married, so) but none of these movies' plots were followed. YAY!
> 
> I'd like to thank my beta, [@seventh-level-of-otp-hell](http://seventh-level-of-otp-hell.tumblr.com/) for being SUPER patient with me, seeing as how I write REALLY slow. They offered to be my beta a few months back, and I've been keeping them in my back pocket for moments like this. They've been super helpful with my horrible grammar! LOL
> 
> Also, I'd like to thank my artist [@knowmefirst](http://knowmefirst.livejournal.com/) who was gracious enough to agree to be my artist. (I'll be linking the art a little later but its gonna be amazing. trust me.) Thanks so much.
> 
> Last shout out to [@sandrasfisher](http://sandrasfisher.livejournal.com/) who made this all possible by hosting the Barton_bb. :) 
> 
> If you find any other mistakes, it's probably my fault.

Clint’s face almost split open in a grin as he stared at Natasha, wide-eyed and disbelieving, then down at her hands, delicately folded on top of the table next to her coffee cup. The ring sat perfectly on her finger, simple and understated - just how she liked it. 

“Oh my god. Tasha, I’m so happy for you.” Clint told her sincerely. “Bucky is a lucky man.” 

Natasha simply smiled at him, took the cup in her hand and drank from it. If Clint didn’t know any better, he’d guess that this was her way of showing off her new ring, but since Clint did know her, he knew that this was  _ definitely _ her way of showing off - cheeky. Clint simply snorted and shook his head. 

Natasha placed her cup back in the saucer, “That’s not the only reason I asked you to meet me during your lunch hour.” She played with the new ring on her finger with her thumb, a clear sign that she was nervous about something. “I need a favor.”

“Anything,” was Clint’s immediate response. 

He’s never been good at saying no to his friends, especially when it made them this twitchy. He’d go through hell and back for them. Suffer the wrath of Satan himself. He’d climb the highest peak of the Earth just to fetch them water if that was necessary. He’d face down Cerberus and battle Hades in the underworld. He’d even be willing to join an expedition to search for the sunken City of Atlantis. He would do literally  _ anything _ if it were for his friends.

“I need you to be my maid of honor.” Natasha said it quickly, like ripping out a band-aid. 

Clint stared at her for a few seconds, as if to try and let the request hang there to be observed. “I’m sorry, your- what?” Clint had to clarify. 

“My maid of honor.” Natasha repeated.

Okay, so maybe not  _ anything... _

“That’s, like, the bride’s version of the best man, right?” 

That got a tiny laugh from Natasha, “Yes. Exactly like the best man.”

“Oh, Cool. I’ll do it. How hard could it be?”

In retrospect, Clint shouldn’t have asked that. He knew better than to jinx it.

\---

The bride was well on her way to hyperventilating. 

Her shoulders were tense and her eyes were wide with frantic energy. “This isn’t going to work. I can’t do this. I can’t marry him. I’m marrying the wrong guy.” She rambled, pacing her room and stopping just in front of the mirror to look at herself with a frown. “I’m fat.” She put her hands on her hips as if trying to push her already slender hips in.

Phil didn’t even bat an eyelash. He took her arms and made her look at him, forcing her to focus on him rather than the mirror, “You look beautiful.” He stated plain and simple, with the sincerity of a caring mother. “You’re the most stunning bride I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. When I did J.Lo’s wedding, she was even more nervous than you, and you look  _ ten _ times better than she did. John is a lucky man and he knows it. But more than that, I saw the way he looked at you when you walked in at rehearsal dinner. He told me, ‘Look at her. I still can’t believe she said yes. Of all the people in the world that she could’ve said yes to, she chose  _ me _ .’ and that, that tells me that this marriage of yours is not only going to work, it’s going to last a lifetime.” Phil said with a smile.

The bride exhaled, releasing all of the tension trapped in her shoulders. “Thank you.” She said to Phil, pulling him into a tight hug. He gave her a nod before walking away. 

Classic case of wedding jitters, nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing a few sweet words couldn’t fix. At this crucial point, it didn’t really matter if what Phil said was true or not, he just had to make sure that bride goes down the aisle and say ‘ _ I do’ _ . Phil wasn’t in the habit of botching a wedding, and he sure didn’t intend to start now. 

He stopped in front of one of the bridesmaids, who somehow managed to cut off the seam of her sleeve. She looked like she was about to cry and was practically debating if she should just rip the other sleeve to make it symmetrical. Phil took out a safety pin from under his suit and pinned it for her without so much as a hello. 

“Hey, what’re you-” The bridesmaid started to complain about the invasion of privacy but Phil was already done and walking away.  When the bridesmaid turned to look at her dress in the mirror, it almost seemed like the dress was never ripped. “Thank you!” The bridesmaid called out. 

The dressing area was bustling, people trying to get ready before the bride was done, and as soon as Phil walked into the hall, three of the camera men started to tail him. “Make sure to cover areas B, C, and E. I don’t want interference with the video,” Phil ordered. The three men nodded their understanding and made themselves scarce. Phil placed his earpiece in, listening to any and all updates coming through, and nodded in acknowledgement at the people who walked pass on his way out the dressing areas. 

Just as Phil walked out of there, he met the Reverend, who seemed to be in a hurry to go somewhere. Phil held on to the Reverend’s hands. “Reverend, where are you going?”

“Nature calls, my boy.” The Reverend said with a smile.

“Tell it to call you back later.” Phil guided the Reverend back through the entrance, “We’re about to start. Let’s go.” He practically shooed him, and he’ll feel guilty about that later. Right now, he had a job to do.

Phil walked towards the grand entrance again, saying his hellos to everyone he walked past. Everything looked perfect when Phil walked in, the mini sakura trees were out of season, so it was a little hard to find, but it was all obviously worth it seeing as it made the interior look magnificent and larger than it actually was. The flower arrangements that the bride and groom chose together also complimented the dark walls, and the soft lighting. 

Everything was perfect… Everything except for-

Phil walked across the aisle and picked up a stray rose, putting it back in its place. There,  _ perfect. _ He headed towards the back where all the technicians were huddled together in front of small TV screens documenting every second of every angle of the place. Phil frowned at the screen labeled ‘Center-rear’. Phil pushed into his earpiece as he spoke, “Jasper, head to M-twelve. we’ve got a dark tower choking visual.” 

On-screen, Jasper greeted the wedding guests with a pleasant smile. “Hello, ma’am. You’re actually listed for the front, so if you’d be so kind as to follow me.” The woman with the outrageously tall updo gladly took his hand and waved her companions goodbye. She didn’t even pause to ask Jasper how he knew her name or why she was suddenly ‘ _ listed for the front’.  _ “Dark tower demolished.” Jasper reported back. 

Phil smiled. Everything looked perfect, both personal-wise and video-wise _. _ They should probably start the ceremony before people got antsy. “All right. We’re going in one. Places, everybody. Todd, ready with the lights. And maestro on three...”

“Excuse me, Phil. We can’t find Mr. Avery.” One of the cameramen interrupted. 

Phil gave him a nod, effectively dismissing the man, and spoke into his earpiece again. “Jasper, send over the FOB.” 

“I did. Fifteen minutes ago,” Jasper said with a confused tone. 

Phil tried not to sigh as he spoke. “Cover my position, the FOB is MIA.” Without further prompting, Phil raced for the opposite side of the interior without looking like there was something wrong, and trusting Jasper to already be at his post. He stopped at the center of the grand entrance where the flower girl had just walked in. “Oh no, not yet sweetie. Count to a hundred and start again, okay?” The little girl nodded and went back outside. 

As Phil frantically searched the boys’ dressing area, he passed by the room where the groom and his groomsmen were drinking, he poked his head in, “John, let’s go. It’s time. Get your jackets on.” the men did as they were instructed and Phil left them to go search for the FOB again. 

He turned around and walked towards the stairs at the very back of the interior when he heard a drunken drawl. It might be one of the groomsmen, but it might also be the FOB. As soon as Phil saw the figure he sighed inwardly. “I have a 20 on the FOB.” He said into his earpiece. 

Phil unbuttoned his jacket and opened the little pack he always had with him. “My little girl is getting married today.” the father of the bride told him, willing to share anything even to a stranger like Phil. Phil just nodded politely as he took out a bottle of facial spray from his pack. The man continued to ramble on about how he remembered her elementary graduation and how she used to always want piggy back rides from him, and Phil continued the process of making the man look - and smell - like he wasn’t flat out drunk. “I remember… like it was just yesterday” The man sobbed without actually crying, then looked up at Phil as if he just noticed him. “Who are you?”

Phil smiled at him, professional and patient, “I’m the wedding planner.”

\---

“Wait, wait. I gotta do what?” Clint paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. 

“The Engagement party. And the Bridal Shower, the Bachelorette party, the Thank You Dinner and the Rehearsal dinner.” Natasha enumerated them again. “You’re supposed to lead the planning with these events.” She explained to him.

“I thought I was going to be the bride version of the best man?” Clint asked, confused.

“You are.”

“No, the Best man only does the slightly tipsy speech at the reception and the speech to keep the groom from running away. And even with the Bachelor Party, the Best man does that with the groomsmen.” Clint tried not to sound too panicked. “I can’t do all those things you listed off. I don’t even know the first thing about bachelorette parties. What do women even do at those things?” 

“Clint, don’t worry. I got you a list of things you need to do. You just have to do them. Okay?” Natasha slid him a clipboard with a checklist. Well, it was a clipboard with several papers on it. She also crossed something off of her own clipboard.

“ _ I _ have to do all of  _ these _ ?” Clint asked in disbelief as he skimmed the papers. On the clipboard, Natasha had listed a lot of words that Clint had in no way, shape, or form ever read before. Apparently, he needed to finalize the themes for all these parties, check venues, negotiate with different stores for flowers, bakeries, caterers, technicals… Then there was the fitting, the invitations, the guest lists. “Half of these things are your job.” He complained.

“No, the actual wedding is my job. Your job happens pre-wedding. You’re going to help me prepare for the biggest day of my life, Clint. I need you to do this for me, please.” Natasha used  _ The Face _ against him, a tactic she's only ever used three times before, which was really unfair since she knew that he wouldn’t say no when she used it, but he’s never said no to that face and he wasn’t sure if he even could. 

“Yes, fine. okay, I’ll do it. Just quit with The Face.” Natasha smiled at him, and he rolled his eyes at her. “Cheater.” 

Natasha crossed off two things from her list and Clint narrowed his eyes at it, before grabbing it. 

 

  * __Set a meeting with Mr. Coulson__


  * _Give Clint list of Maid of Honor tasks._


  * _Watch Clint try to back out_


  * _Convince Clint not to back out (use The Face if necessary)_


  * _Call Pepper to see about possible dress designs_



 

“I can’t believe you literally just crossed me off your list.  _ Three times. _ ” Clint balked. He had never before felt so disrespected in his whole life! Okay, that’s a lie, but was he really that predictable that Natasha had already listed down his response before she even asked the question?

“Give me that.” Natasha swiped the clipboard out of his hands and rolled her eyes. “I have to keep organized.” She checked over her list again and skimmed over the other pages before giving Clint a look. “Besides, I’m not a  _ total _ monster. I hired a wedding planner.” 

“Great! That means I don’t have to work on the list anymore, right?” Clint asked expectantly. He should have known it wouldn’t really be that easy.

“No, it means you’re going to be working with the wedding planner to plan the pre-wedding events and the wedding itself.” 

“Oh.” Clint deflated a little, then tried to look for the silver lining. “Is she hot though?”

“ _ He _ is very reliable.” Natasha answered.

“Oh.” Clint replied. “Is he hot though?” A silver lining is a silver lining.

“Clint,” Natasha chastised. “If you end up making the wedding planner quit, I swear to god, you will be uninvited to my wedding.” 

“But then who’s going to help you pick out flowers?” Clint mocked.

“I’ll do it myself if I have to. Just try me, Barton.” Natasha threatened. 

It was useless to try and go against Natasha’s threats because she never backed down on any of her threats. 

“Wait. How do you even know this guy is legit?” Clint asked. “What if he just pretends to be a wedding planner then collects the money and bolts? That’s totally a thing. I saw it on TV once.”

“He’s not a con artist. Phil Coulson is the best wedding planner in the country, and we’re lucky we even got a meeting with him.” Her phone beeped and she read the text silently, packing her things as she did. “We’re meeting him next Saturday. One pm. I’ll text you the place. _ Don’t  _ be late.” She placed a few bills on the table.

“But-”

“What do you want Clint? His resum é ?” She sighed.

“It’d be a start, yes.” Clint gave her his best ‘ _ duh _ ’ look.

“He’s planned tons of weddings before and nothing he handled has ever gone wrong. You want his resum é? Open a bridal catalogue. The man is a legend in this business. He probably even lives the most romantic life imaginable.” Natasha gave him a kiss goodbye on the cheek and left Clint to finish his food.

\---

Phil turned the knob on his door while balancing two paper bags in his hands. He switched the light on and hung the key on the nail jutting out of the wall. The apartment was as quiet as he left it, and everything seemed to be in its place. Still, Phil couldn’t help but think that the quiet his apartment offered seemed lonelier now than it did when he first bought the place. 

When was the last time he had a friend over anyway?

Phil sighed at the thought and went to the kitchen to put away his groceries. Maybe he should call Nick. See how he’s doing on the other side of the country. Or maybe he could Skype with Victoria. She seemed to know what the best new places to go to in New York despite being out of the country 5 days out of a week. Or he could invite May over… Somehow Phil didn’t feel like she had time at the moment, what with the move to the suburbs plus the new job... Although, she’s only a few hours away. Maybe he could visit.

With that in mind, Phil decided that that probably counted as ‘plans for the weekend’. 

\---

“You're free this weekend, right?” Daisy asked him, and even without Phil answering, she beamed. “Great. ‘Coz I accidentally booked you a meeting with THE Natasha Romanov.”

Phil didn't even glance up from his files. “I don't meet clients on weekends. It's my one rule.”

“You have like a bajillion rules.” Daisy pointed out, placing her hand on her hip. “Besides, this is Natasha Romanov. Accidentally discovered while she was serving  hors d'oeuvre at a fashion show. Now, today, five years later, she’s one of the most highly paid fashion models in America. Her engagement alone was front page news. So trust me when I say that her wedding will be international news. This’ll be a very social event, Phil. The party everybody talks about. I already made contact and they want to meet you to talk about your work. If you nail this account, we’ll be in every major bridal magazine in the country. It’ll be our biggest event ever.” She sighed softly. “Don't you want that?” Daisy asked him. 

“I do and I am well aware of who she is, but the rule still stands. I don't meet clients on weekends.” Phil stated again.

“What's the big deal? It's just one weekend. Come on. This is Natasha Romanov we’re talking about.”

Phil sighed. “Is she not free any day else?”

“Nope.” Daisy answered with a smile, making the ‘p’ pop. “So you have to do this. K, thanks, byeeeeee” She said, drawing out the bye until she had the doors to Phil’s office closed, leaving no room for further argument. 

Sometimes Phil wondered if he was actually the boss  _ of his own company.  _

\---

Phil watched the hand of his wrist watch and counted down in his head. 

5… 4… 3… 2… 1… 

He pushed open the door to the small hide-away cafe that his and Ms. Romanov’s meeting was supposed to take place. 1200H. On the dot. Not a second early, Not a second late.

The cafe didn't seem like someplace an international super model would be seen, which is probably why Natasha chose the place. The decor was tastefully homey, and warm. The old-timey world war 2 posters hanging on the wall forcing Phil to feel like he was going back in time. The music from the 40’s probably helped with that though. 

Even if Phil didn't know what Ms. Romanov looked like, he would've been able to spot her; in the far corner of the café, a woman sat alone, reading a wedding magazine that featured some of Phil’s greatest works. But since Phil knew who she was, even without the magazine, the flaming red hair was a dead giveaway. 

Phil approached her and cleared his throat to get her attention. He held out his hand. “Miss Romanov, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm a big fan of your work. My name is-”

She shook his hand with the grace one would have expected. “Phil Coulson. Yes, I know. I, too, am a fan of your work.” She smiled at him. 

“Thank you. May I?” Phil gestured to the chair across her and she motioned for him to sit down. “Have you decided on a date for the wedding?”

Natasha gave him a small smile and sipped her tea gingerly. “Getting right down to the brass tacks, are we?” 

Phil called over a waiter and turned back to Natasha. “I’m sorry. Did you want to talk about something else first?” Phil asked, giving the waiter his order and handing the menu back to the man before folding his hands together and smiling at the woman in front of him. 

Natasha gave him a small shrug, somehow managing to make it look graceful, “I like brass tacks. We haven’t decided on a date yet, but James is insisting it be as soon as possible.”

“I’m assuming James is the groom-to-be.” Phil said before thanking the waiter when he placed his coffee on the table.

“Yes, well. If he had it his way, we’d be married in a courthouse as soon as I said yes to his proposal.” Natasha smiled at the thought. “As it is, I’d like a more traditional wedding ceremony. With flowers, and arches, the whole thing. Something intimate, simple and modest, but at the same time intricate and elegant.”

Phil loved this part of his job, listening to the bride describe their perfect wedding day and seeing the joy on her face as she imagines every detail about her special day; it’s a wonderful sight. Too bad the part he hated the most came almost right after: discussing the expenses. When Phil started his career as a wedding planner, it always broke his heart telling the bride that they couldn’t afford ‘perfect’ and that they had to settle for ‘good enough’. Phil doubted that Natasha and James would settle for something less than perfect for their wedding though. 

“Well, it’s good that you know what you want your wedding to be. That’ll make decision-making about the nitty-gritty easier. We can work to narrow those down as we go along, but for now, have you decided on a venue?” Phil already had a list of venues that Natasha might like prepared as soon as Daisy had scheduled the meeting. He didn’t work on weekends but he wasn’t crazy enough to turn away Natasha Romanov.

“Not yet. I was actually hoping you could recommend some places we can look at.” Natasha said.

Phil took out his tablet and opened up the list, “How many people are you inviting to the wedding?”

“Around 30 people. 40 max.” Natasha did mention she wanted the affair to be intimate. 

“Here! I’m here! Sorry I’m late!” Phil looked up to see a man yelling over the other customers as he made his way around the small cafe, bumping into tables and almost making one waiter spill his tray . Phil was about to dismiss him when he noticed that the man was headed for their table. 

“Apologize a little louder, I think Malaysia didn’t hear you,” Natasha said to him affectionately, leaning up to kiss the man’s cheek. “What’s your excuse this time?” She asked him.

“No bullshit excuse, I just slept in.” The man grinned at her as he sat down. Phil wasn’t ashamed to think that the man had a gorgeous smile. The kind of smile that looked unapologetic and completely shit-eating. It’s the kind of smile that two people who’ve been together for a while shared.

“Figures.” Natasha rolled her eyes, like she couldn’t believe she even second guessed herself. Then, as if only then remembering that she wasn’t alone, she gestured over to Phil. “This is Mr. Phillip Coulson. Our wedding planner.” 

The man held out his hand and Phil took it, “You must be James.” Phil said, trying not to focus too much on the man’s eyes. It was somewhat of a challenge.

Instead of the man replying, Natasha scoffed into her drink, creating her most ungraceful reaction of the day. She reached for the napkin on the table, covering half her face with her other hand. “I’m so sorry. It’s just, that came out of nowhere, and it surprised me.” 

The man, instead of helping her, just laughed and said, “Anyone who can make Tasha snort tea out her nose is a friend. My name is Clint. I’m the Maid of Honor.” 

Oh. “Okay. Interesting, but not unheard of.” Phil said, letting his initial surprise fade. Actually, ever since that movie Made of Honor came out, there have been so much more male Maid of Honors, but most of them were Kinsey-Scale six gay so Phil didn’t have to worry about them stealing the bride; besides, they’ve only ever had two weddings where the Maid of Honor tried to steal the bride - both attempts did not end well for the Maid of Honor. This though, Clint as Natasha’s Maid of honor, he could easily see Clint wanting to steal Natasha. “This isn’t a  _ Made of Honor _ kind of thing, is it?” Phil had to ask.

“Like, the movie?” Clint asked and Phil nodded. “No, of course not. Tasha is like a sister to me.”

“And Clint is like a pet monkey to me.” Natasha smirked.

Clint rolled his eyes at her fondly before he turned to Phil, leaning forward with his arms on the table. “So, Phil, tell me, what do you see for Natasha’s wedding?” He asked, looking oddly proud of himself.

It wasn’t an uncommon question, and Phil had prepared something to present to Ms. Romanov, but now, seeing how she was with her friends, the original plan didn’t seem like it would fit her personality at all. She seemed more playful than she let on, and for some reason, Phil couldn’t see her getting married indoors. “Well, now, having met you, let’s see…” Phil wracked his brain for inspiration, “Night. A garden. Ivory silk tents, thin enough to see the stars. Lights, twinkling softly like faraway stars, wrapped around the stalk of tall white Larkspurs lining the aisle. Black lamp posts on every corner of the perimeter. The moon, bright enough to carry the ceremony, with round lanterns to help it along…”

Natasha and Clint stared at him, lips slightly parted in silent awe. Natasha was the first to break out of the reverie. “That sounds beautiful.” She said with a gentle smile. “Don’t you think so, Clint?”

“What? No. I mean, yeah. It’s perfect… Forget Tasha, I want that to be my wedding.” Clint joked, or at least Phil hoped he was kidding. 

“As if you’ve found someone patient enough to stand your craziness.” Natasha rolled her eyes at him. 

They devolved into mindless chit-chat after that with Phil interjecting with a few questions about the wedding himself. Natasha was very easy to work with, so general details about the wedding was settled quickly. 

Natasha definitely wanted an outdoor wedding; Red accents. True to her word, she described a fairly simple wedding; the kind you wouldn’t expect from a person of her status. 

Phil glanced at his watch and found that he was supposed to be on his way to May’s fifteen minutes ago. This is why he didn’t want to work the weekend. Melinda was going to kill him.

“I apologize, Ms. Romanov,”

“Natasha, please.” She insisted.

“I’m sorry, Natasha, but I’m afraid I have to leave.” Phil started to fix his things and grabbed two calling cards, giving Clint and Natasha one each. “If there’s any trouble at all, please don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll have my secretary arrange a meeting again for us this week. Hopefully, I can accommodate you better then. I’m truly sorry.”

“Oh, hey. I’ll head out with you.” Clint quickly drank what was left of his coffee and with coffee stained, wet lips, he kissed Natasha goodbye on the cheek. “So, where are you headed?”

“Scarsdale.” Phil answered, quick and contrite. He really didn’t have time for small talk at the moment.

“Hey cool! I’ll drive you.” Clint offered.

Phil paused just as they were outside the cafe. “To Scarsdale.” He repeated, in case the man failed to hear him the first time. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’m headed there myself. Old buddy of mine lives there now and Natasha was thinking of inviting him, so…Of course, feel free to say no. I was just offering since we were headed the same way.” 

Phil thought about it. If he took the train, it’d take him at least an hour to get to Melinda’s place. If he took Clint up on his offer, it’d take less time, sure, but he’d still be technically taking a ride from a total stranger. He thought about Melinda and her wrath, and the decision was suddenly clear. 

“I’d appreciate a ride, thank you.”

Clint jerked his head the other way, “My car’s this way.” 

Phil was not ashamed to say he whistled low when he saw Clint’s car. She was a thing of beauty after all. A red 1970 Dodge Challenger with chrome plating. It looked like someone just pulled it out fresh from a magazine. A true piece of art.

Clint grinned at him and leaned on the driver side door. “That’s exactly what I said when I saw this baby. Come on.”

Phil happily stepped off of the sidewalk and into the car.

\---

Clint lied. 

He didn’t really have a friend who lived in Scarsdale. He just wanted to get to know the man taking care of his best friend’s wedding, see if he was the real deal or not - regardless of what Natasha said. Besides, he was just going to talk to the guy. It wasn’t like he was going to put him under interrogation; just a few casual questions.

Or at least that was the plan.

Phil Coulson turned out to be a workaholic, working away on his little tablet thing while Clint drove. He gave Clint one sentence answers and not really a lot to go with so a conversation wasn’t really an option for Clint. They’re less than fifteen minutes from their destination when Clint decided he’s had it and just turned the radio on. At least the radio seemed to be in a cooperative mood as it played one of Clint’s favorite songs at the moment. 

Clint bobbed his head to the beat of the song, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the intro.  _ “I’m good. I’m good, I’m good, I’m good.”  _ He sang quietly, unaware that Phil gave him a sidelong glance.  _ “Living life just like I should; Wouldn’t change it if I could. I’m good, I’m good, I’m good.”  _

_ “Trying to figure out who I am or who I’m supposed to be,”  _ Clint almost stomped on the brakes when Coulson sang. It was so unexpected and it seemed totally out of character but it was also such a nice surprise that Clint couldn’t help but drop his jaw as he glanced at Phil. Phil grinned at him, bobbing his head softly to the beat of the song. Clint’s shock quickly turned into a grin.   _ “Feel good about where I stand so I can make the most of me,” _

_ “I’m,”  _ Clint sang, 

_ “Coming back down from space. A million miles away. There’s a lot of love in this place, And I’m just trying to say,”  _ Coulson continued to sing while Clint was pushing a note higher as the song neared the chorus. 

_ “I’m good. I’m good, I’m good, I’m good.”  _ They sang together, grinning like idiots now. Well, they were technically screaming the lyrics at each other but there were no other witnesses, so…

Clint decided then and there that Phil couldn’t possibly be a bad guy; not if he knew The Mowgli’s.

\---

Was it wrong that Phil kind of wished Melinda’s house was a bit farther? 

Well, he did. Clint was interesting to talk to. Beyond interesting in fact that Phil sort of wished he talked to the man properly a while ago. He’d just been a little too occupied by his work and he thought that the man was just trying to be polite. 

After the impromptu karaoke, they dissolved into an actual conversation and Phil told him about Lola. Clint even asked if he could see her sometime. It was great. 

Phil almost felt bad when he saw Melinda’s house. 

Clint slowed to a stop in front of her driveway and smiled at Phil. “Well, this is me.” Phil said with a repressed sigh. “It was really nice to get to know you, Clint.” 

“You too. You’re a pretty cool guy, Coulson.” Clint commented. His eyes flickered from Phil to the door of the house then back to Phil. “I think your wife is waiting for you.” He said, jerking his chin towards the door. 

Melinda stood under the threshold of the door, leaning against it with her arms crossed on top of her chest. “That’s Melinda.” Phil huffed. “She likes people who are on time.” Phil got out of the car and before he closed the door, he leaned down, “Thanks again, for the ride and for the company.” 

“Anytime.” Clint said, sounding like he actually meant it. 

Phil closed the door and headed for his friend’s house. “Hi Melinda. You look wonderful.” He commented. Melinda was wearing a black dress that made her look younger than she actually was.

“He’s cute.” She responded with a slight smirk before pulling him in for a kiss on the cheek.

“You didn’t even see him.” Phil rolled his eyes at her. 

She shrugged in return, “Didn’t really need to.” 

Phil ignored her teasing and asked instead, “Where’s Andrew?” 

“He’s in the living room with the kids. So, how did your meeting go?” Melinda asked conversationally, taking Phil’s coat for him.

“I got the account, but they want it in three months. They’re aiming for June.” Phil massaged his temples for a bit.

“Three months to do a wedding? Isn’t that a little-”

“Rushed, I know. Which was why I already called every resource I know, set up a meeting for next week. It’s going to be tough, but not impossible.”

“Jobs like this, you’ll have to work ‘round the clock, I suppose.” Melinda told him with a shrug.

“Speaking of time, shouldn’t you and Andrew be leaving by now? Your reservations are at six.” Phil reminded her.

“We were just waiting for you. I promise we’ll be back by nine. We’ll even bring back wine. Just-”

“Just get the kids to bed.” Phil finished for her. “I know the deal.” He smiled at her as he made his way to the living room. “Andrew, your wife is waiting for you!” He called out. 

His yell was met with two tiny gasps and then the sound of small feet running towards him. He braced himself for the impact but the children still managed to make him almost lose his balance. “Jemma. Leo.” He greeted the children clinging to his pants, one child per leg. 

“Hello, Uncle Phil.” They greeted in unison. 

“Hi, Phil.” Andrew said with a smile, trying to straighten up the mess of papers and crayons on the coffee table. 

“Hi Andrew. You better get going.” Phil said, jerking his head towards the door. 

“Thanks. Dinner is already in the oven.” Andrew gave him a pat on the shoulder and bent down to talk to the children. “Be good for Uncle Phil, okay?” 

He was met with a chorus of ‘Yes’s then he ruffled both heads before he was off. When Phil heard the door close, he touched his chin, pretending to be in deep thought. “I think I wanna watch the Bachelor.” The children whined in response, “Gravity Falls?” Phil smiled when the children cheered. “Okay then, let’s go.” Phil walked towards the sofa slowly, his legs heavier than usual due to his giggling passengers. 

\---

If you’ve ever sat in a table with diplomats, World leaders, and Business magnates, then you might know what it felt for Clint when he stood in front of the people he was meeting for lunch - keyword here being  _ might _ . A meeting with world leaders actually seemed a hundred times less scary than facing  _ Natasha’s bridesmaids. _

Directly in front of Clint was Pepper Potts - CEO of Stark Industries, named Top 8 in TIME’s Top 100 Most Influential People, always busy, always on-the-go, nobody gets a meeting with her without scheduling an appointment six months in advance. 

Sitting left of her was Jane Foster - two master’s degrees in the field of science at the age of twenty-three, lead scientific mind in Thermonuclear Astrophysics and Quantum Physics. She’s been headhunted by all the major scientific institutions in the world, declined all of them, and chose to do her own research in Greenwich. She also makes a mean mac and cheese.

Next to Jane was Sif. Clint’s not sure what her last name is, but he does know that Sif is one of the toughest MMA fighters in the country. She’s dedicated her life to learning every form of martial arts there is. She also has a studio that teaches women to defend themselves somewhere downtown.

Wanda Maximoff, seated on Pepper’s right side, is a very vocal activist. She became a legend online when she led the physical and online protests against AIM, effectively shutting down the company for good. 

And of course, there was Maria Hill, Natasha’s manager. She was the one who discovered Natasha five years ago along with other famous models. Maria has an eye for talent like no one in the business, making her decisions final and absolute in the fashion industry. 

Yep, a meeting with world leaders would definitely be easier.

“Relax, Clint. It’s not like we’re going to hurt you.” Pepper cajoled him, drinking her tea.

“Sit, and let’s talk about Natasha’s shower.” Maria said, punching a few things into her phone before she pocketed it and gave all her attention to Clint.

“So, what’s the plan?” Jane asked as soon as Clint was seated.

“The plan… for what exactly?” Clint asked back, looking as clueless as a child lost in the department store.

“The bachelorette party and the bridal shower. You’re the maid of honor. You’re supposed to delegate our duties for these events.” Pepper took pity on him, probably, and answered his question when everybody just stared. 

“Oh, I… uh…” Clint flipped through the checklist that Natasha had given him and found that, no, there wasn’t a checklist for Bridal showers and Bachelorette parties. Jesus Christ on a cracker. What was he going to do now-  _ wait, _

Clint reached into his back pocket and fished out Phil Coulson’s card. He sighed silently in relief, if anyone could help him, it would be this man. 

“Excuse me for a moment, ladies. I need to make a call.” Clint got out of seat, and out of the fancy cafe that they were in, dialing as he went. 

The phone rang exactly three times before someone picked up, the voice belonging to what Clint guessed was a young woman.  _ “Coulson’s Wedding Company. My name is Daisy, how may I assist you?” _

“Hi, yes. I’m, uh, I’m looking for Coulson- Phil. This is Clint. Clint Barton.”

_ “One moment please.” _

Clint turned to glance back at the ladies he left inside. They were all staring at him. 

_ “Clint?” _

“Yes.” Clint turned back to the street, unaware that he was already pacing. “Phil. Yes. I need your help.” 

\---

“Who do you think he’s talking to?” Wanda asked off-handedly.

“Natasha probably.” Maria answered with a smirk. 

“He looked so lost when we asked him about the bachelorette party. It’s almost adorable.” Jane commented, a smile on her face.

“This is cruel. Even for us. Let’s just help him.” Pepper suggested. “Look at him. He looks like he wants to pull his hair out.” 

Outside Clint was still pacing, then out of the blue, he swiped a pen from a passing waiter and a napkin from one of the tables. He pinned his phone between his cheek and his shoulder and started writing stuff down, nodding along as he wrote.

“I think you underestimate his abilities. I’m sure Clint can rise to any challenge we throw at him.” Sif said confidently, crossing her arms on top of her chest. “He might surprise you.”

They watched as Clint nodded one last time then smiled, laughed, and ended the call, shaking his head softly as he headed back to the table.

“You seem chipper.” Pepper noted with a slight smirk.

“So, that was obviously not Natasha on the phone.” Maria smirked as well, raising one eyebrow in silent judgement.

“Clint’s got himself a boyfriend?” Wanda asked, elbowing Sif with the intent to tease Clint. 

The women on the table started giggling like teenage girls. Clint rolled his eyes at all of them. Why was he worried about meeting them again?

“If you must know, that was Natasha’s wedding planner, Phil Coulson. I was asking him-”

“ _ The _ Phil Coulson?” Jane interrupted. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get their number? You have to have a referral just to call their office and you’re telling me you have his number?” 

“Well, yeah. He gave me and Natasha his card… so.” Clint shrugged. 

“I wish I had his number when Thor and I got married.” Jane said wistfully. “We could have had a wedding amongst the stars. I bet he could pull something like that off.” 

“You mean, make it look like we’re actually in outer space rather than just under the stars? or do you mean an actual outer space wedding?” Wanda asked,

“If I wanted an outer space wedding, I bet he could pull that off.” 

“We’re getting off topic.” Sif reminded them.

“Oh, yeah. Uh, the bridal shower and the bachelorette party. We’re going to need venues for those things. I’m thinking, since the bridal shower is a smaller event, we could hold it at Pepper’s place. Then, for the bachelorette party, we could book one of the big clubs downtown for a night, and maybe invite a few more people. Maria and Jane, I’ll let you take over the guest list for the party. Wanda and Sif will be in charge of booking the entertainment. Pepper, I trust that you can handle the venue on your own. And I’ll make sure that the bride is there. For dress sizes, we’ll just go down together to get fitted, I’ll set up the date, just make sure that you’ll be there.”

The ladies remained silent, and continued to stare at Clint like he grew another head. 

“Well he went zero to hero real quick.” Maria broke the silence with a snicker. 

\---

Phil strode down the hall of his office with Daisy next to him, taking notes of everything he’s saying. “Tell Simone that I won’t confirm those flowers she sent me for the Brazilian layout. Ms. Kingsley asked for bright, spring, and fresh. She sent me dull, dry, and dead. Confirm the meeting with Chef Antonio for Friday. That’s the only day that Emily can accommodate.” He took off his jacket and hung it behind his chair before turning his computer on. “Then, call Natalie at Glorious Foods and tell her ‘no’ for the fortieth time. I don't want dacquoise. I want tortes filled with warm rhubarb compote. Call Richard, tell him I saw all the pictures for the welcome page, and ask him to get photos from Rogers. I liked his works better.” He sipped the coffee that Daisy had picked up for him and hummed. “This is good. Where’d you get this?”

“There’s this new place down the block from where I live and I figured you might like it.” Daisy answered with a smile.

Phil sipped once more and smiled. “You figured right. Also, let me know if Natasha is here. I’d like to get all of the sampling done before the day ends. Three months is not a lot to prepare for-”

“Oh, actually, she’s already here. She’s waiting in the green room.” Daisy informed him, wincing as the words came out of her mouth. 

“You could’ve told me that before I took my jacket off.” Phil said, as he got up from his seat, “Have the car brought around. I’ll see her in five minutes.” 

Before any of them could move another muscle, there came a knock on Phil’s glass door. “Uh, sorry. I was told to bring you these?” Clint said carrying a vase with a beautiful floral arrangement. 

“Yes, just put that over by my desk, thank you.” Daisy replied before turning back to Phil.

“Uh, no- I’m not-” Clint tried.

Phil scoffed and walked around his desk. “He doesn’t work here.” He informed Daisy, “He’s Natasha’s Maid of Honor.” 

“Shoot.” Daisy raced for Clint to get the flowers off his hand. “Sorry about that.” 

“No worries, happens all the time, if you can believe it.” Clint waved it off, even as Daisy left the room. 

“You get mistaken as a delivery boy all the time, huh?” Phil asked, teasing.

“Delivery boy, busboy… any minimum wage job that has the word ‘boy’ at the end, actually. Apparently, I look the part.” Clint shrugged. 

“That’s weird.” Phil gathered his things and opened the door for Clint. “Why are you so early. It’s barely ten.” 

“Natasha got excited. She called me at five in the morning to tell me to get dressed for today.” 

Phil tried not to smile. “Did you?”

“Hell no. She ended up having to call me twenty-five times just to get me out of bed.”

“Oddly enough, I can see that happening.” Phil chuckled a little. “Why don’t you go wait for me at the green room. I just have to make a few calls. Sitwell will show you where it is.”  

Sitwell gave Clint a nod before escorting the blond away from the offices. 

“He’s cute.” Daisy commented with a grin.

“He’s a client.” Phil reminded her with a roll of his eyes. 

“You like him.” Daisy put a hand on her hip, saying it a matter-of-factly. “You should ask him out.”

Phil gave her a face which basically screamed ‘ _ Have you lost your mind? _ ’ “I do not  _ like _ him. And I will not ask him out.” 

“Why not?”

“Aside from the fact that it's unprofessional?” Phil asked her. 

To her credit, Daisy actually looked speechless before she managed to stammer out, “Yeah, aside from that.”

“Well, let’s see. I’m older than him by almost ten years. He’s my client’s maid of honor. I know nothing about him. And your basis of whether we should go out or not is that ‘ _ He’s cute.’ _ ” Phil gave her a raised eyebrow as he ticked off every item. 

“Okay, then. Let’s see. He looks like he’s six years younger than you. That’s barely ten. He’s not directly your client, so you’re not technically breaking any rules. And that’s not my basis. My basis is how cute you two look  _ together. _ There’s obviously a difference.” She had the audacity to roll her eyes at him. She probably learned it from Phil though.

Phil grabbed the sample folder on Daisy’s desk, and made it a point to stress every syllable of what came out of his mouth next. “I am not, repeat not, asking him out. Is the car ready?”

Daisy huffed, “Yes. It’s parked right outside.” 

“That’s all, Daisy. Thank you.”

\---

“Anything but mocha.” Natasha said with finality. 

“I like the mocha.” Clint opposed, ‘tasting’ another slice of the mocha. 

“What about the pink champagne?” Phil suggested, “It’s sweet and fluffy, and with the right champagne, I think it’ll be perfect.” 

Natasha hummed. “I don’t know. It’s too sweet. I think I liked the one with raspberries better than I did the pink champagne.” 

“I say we go with mocha.” Clint nodded his head along. “Everybody loves mocha.” 

“What about Red Velvet?” Phil asked. “It’s a classic, and it goes with your color scheme. It’s not overly sweet, and each layer could be filled with cream cheese frosting.” 

“Hmm. I like it. Red Velvet it is.” Natasha agreed with a nod of her head. “What do you think, Clint?”

Clint shrugged. “I still think you should’ve picked mocha, but red velvet works too, I guess.”

“If I remember correctly, James is also fond of red velvet.” Natasha added. 

Clint scoffed, “Yeah, if by fond, you mean smashing his face into the cake while black out drunk, then he’s in love with red velvet.”

Phil clapped his hands together and stared down at his tablet. “Okay then, with the cake tasting done, I think we’re all through picking out the major details of your wedding. All that’s left are your gowns, the overall arrangement, design invitations, and the guest list.”

“Oh, I sent the guest list this morning to your office.” Clint said with a proud smile. 

“This is great. This means I won’t have anything to worry about while I’m in Rome,” Natasha suddenly piped up.

“Wait, Rome?” Clint asked. 

“Yes, Rome. James and I are going to go to Rome for a few weeks, spend some time together.” Natasha answered. 

“What are you talking about? You spend lots of time together here. There’s no need to go to Rome” Clint pointed out. 

Phil intervened, “I’m going to have to agree with Clint on this one, Natasha. Three months is not a lot of time, and it’s crucial-”

“Oh, relax, both of you. It’s not like we’re going to go there just to spend time together. I’m going to get my dress there.” Natasha calmly deflected all of their arguments away. “It’ll only be for six weeks.”  

“Why not just get a dress here? Like every other New York bride.” Clint asked. “Please Tasha, you can’t just leave me here to plan your wedding for you. It’s cruel and unusual punishment.” 

“And I won’t. I’ll be with you every step of the way. I’ll be sending the design for the final draft of the invitations via email, I’ll skype with you every night to ask you for updates, and for the time sensitive decisions, I’ll let you make the call. I trust that you know me well enough to know what I like, and not to mess anything up,” Natasha reasoned like Clint had no room to argue.

“Phil.” Clint turned to him “Help me.”

“I guess it’s possible. As long as you’re back a few weeks before the wedding to go through with the final checklist, I think it could actually work. Difficult, but not impossible,” Phil said, already trying to figure out what the possible pitfalls are with this arrangement and how to deal with it.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, you traitor,” Clint accused him, then turned to Natasha. “What about the bridal shower and the bachelorette party? We can’t have that without you.” Clint was clearly clinging on the edge of the rope now.

“We can do that when I come back. We’ll have plenty of time for that, I swear.” Natasha smiled sweetly.

Clint dropped his head on to the table and groaned, no arguments left.

“I guess it's settled then. I’m going to Rome with my fiancé.”

\---

One week. 

It had only been a week since Tasha and Bucky had left for Rome and Clint was ready to pull his hair out. Every minute of every day, there was someone calling him to confirm about something or the other and the list that Natasha had given him did not answer every question. It was pretty safe to say that Clint was more than thankful that Phil was around to help him out. Most of the questions he couldn’t answer, he redirected to Phil. 

Things like the type of flower arrangement, which wine would go with which dish, if the color scheme was closer to ladybug red or cherry. 

“It’s red. What does it matter if it’s ladybug or cherry?” Clint whined from the couch in Phil’s office. For the past week, Clint has been making himself comfortable in the man’s office - the security personnel don’t even try to stop him anymore and Daisy holds the door open for him provided he brought her donuts. 

Phil couldn’t exactly blame them, Clint always brought him coffee so he always let it slide. 

“Cherry red would imply something brighter since it's a lighter shade than ladybug. Ladybug is more elegant, classy.” Phil answered without looking up. “That reminds me, when you talk to her later, ask her if she wants mini quiches or crab cakes for the reception.” 

“Neither.”

“Excuse me?” Phil looked up.

“Neither.” Clint shrugged. “Don’t give me that look. You and I have been to enough weddings to know that crab cakes and mini quiches are overplayed. I can guarantee that no one will be lining up to eat those monstrous foods.” 

“Then what do you suggest?” 

“I don’t know.” Clint leaned back and shook his head. “I just know that crab cakes and quiches aren’t it.” 

“What about-” 

“Phil, car’s ready for you.” Daisy popped her head in through the door. “Emily is on her way.” 

“Okay, thank you.” Phil nodded at her, before grabbing his things.

“I guess I should go too.” Clint said as he got up, stretching his arms up. “No point in me staying here if you aren’t.” 

Phil didn’t mean to stare, he just sort of couldn’t look away once Clint’s shirt rode up his stomach, exposing tanned flesh. Good thing there was no one else in the office to notice. “You’re welcome to tag along. I’m sure Emily won’t mind having you there.”

“Really?” Clint brightened up at the invitation, and Phil tried not to give it any meaning.

“We’ll tell her you’re a trainee.” Phil said after a second of mulling. 

\---

“Phillip! It’s so nice to see you again!” Chef Antonio exclaimed, his accent heavy but understandable, opening his arms in invitation. Phil hugged him and pat him twice on the back before holding the man at arm’s length.

Phil had always liked Chef Antonio. He liked a challenge so time limits didn’t concern him, plus, his creations are always a work of art. The michelin star restaurants he owned helped a lot too. 

“It’s been too long.” Phil agreed with a smile. 

“Yes, yes. too long. You must stay. I will cook a special lunch for you. What do you say?” CHef Antonio asked him, and honestly, who was he to say no to a michelin star chef?

“That sounds wonderful, but I’m actually here to introduce you to someone.” Phil said, intending to do business even if his stomach was protesting the decision.

Just then, Clint entered the restaurant and walked up to Phil. He smiled at the Chef before he leaned in to Phil to whisper, “Daisy texted me saying you wouldn’t answer your phone. Emily is going to be a little late.”

Phil gave him a nod, and turned back to Chef Antonio. “Chef, this is Clint Barton. Clint, this is Chef Antonio.”

“You are, you two are…” Chef Antonio did this weird thing with his eyebrows that was essentially weird. Clint had to look over at Phil just to make sure he wasn’t the only one clueless about what that was. “You are with him, yes?”

“Um, yeah. It’s nice to meet you. Phil told me you’re the best chef in New York.” Clint held out his hand in a shake and Chef Antonio gladly took it.

“Phillip does not lie. It’s one of his many good qualities.” Chef Antonio nodded.

“Actually, Chef, we’re here because of a wedding. The br-” Phil got cut off when Chef Antonio suddenly pulled him and Clint into a hug.

“Oh, Phillip! I’m so happy for you!” He cheered, only letting the two get as far as his arms could reach. “I was beginning to worry that you were helping all these people get married and you would never have your chance! You two make such a handsome couple. Congratulazioni! Ti auguro tanto amore e felicità. I will make you the best dish in honor, yes?”

“What- No. I’m not-” Phil stuttered out the same time Clint said, “We’re not- This is not-”

“Oh, hush. It’s not a bother, at all.” Chef Antonio insisted. 

Phil sighed, “Chef Antonio, listen to me, Clint and I are not getting married.” 

“We’re really not.” Clint added. “We barely know each other.”

Chef Antonio visibly deflated and then perked right back up, “But you are together, yes?”

“No.” Phil answered. “We’re just here on business. Clint is just here to observe. My client should be here soon though.” 

Chef Antonio sighed wistfully, “Bene. I shall prepare the tasting platter.”

\---

“This is good.” Clint said, taking another pancake from the tasting platter. “What is it?” 

“Caviar.” Emily answered with an amused smile. 

“What’s that?” Clint asked.

“Fish eggs.”

Clint stopped chewing, turned to Phil, then Emily, then back to Phil. He looked down at the food in his hand before shrugging and eating the rest of it. Emily laughed and Phil smiled. 

“I thought for sure he was going to spit it out.” Emily said.

Clint shrugged again, “Food is food. What can I say, I’m a fan.” 

“Since you consider chocolate dipped donut gourmet, I’d have to agree.” Phil chuckled at the memory. 

“It was belgian chocolate. That’s considered gourmet in most countries, you food snob.” Clint pouted. 

“Not if you buy it at Dunkin’ Donuts.” Phil pointed out with a smirk, like he knew he had won. 

“Whatever, Mr. Food Snob. I’m going to ask Chef Antonio where he bought these because I want a big sack of it.” Clint harrumphed dramatically as he got out of his seat causing another bout of giggles for Emily. 

Once he was out of range, talking animatedly to Chef Antonio, Emily leaned into Phil, “I know it’s none of my business, but you two are so cute, and I just have to know. How long have you two been dating?”

Phil blinked once to process her words. Twice to make sure he didn’t hear it wrong. “I’m- We’re not dating.” 

“Oh.” Emily’s face fell a little, “Really? I- I wouldn’t have guessed that. You two seem so at ease with flirting with each other.” 

“We weren’t- It isn’t like that.” Phil said, and with a little more finality in his tone, “Trust me.” 

“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” Emily nodded in understanding, holding Phil’s hand in hers in a consoling fashion. 

“Wha- Like what, exactly?” Phil asked with another frown.

“You like him, but he doesn’t know, doesn’t notice. We’ve all been there, Phil. It’s tough but you’ll get through it.” Emily said comfortingly.

“No, I- Clint is one of my client’s maid of honor. He’s just tagging along to learn more about weddings. There is absolutely going on between us.” Phil explained, a little bit frustrated at how many people were pointing the same thing out today.

“That’s it?” Emily asked, leaning back on her chair, openly disappointed.

“That’s it.” Phil confirmed with a nod and a smile. 

“Well, that’s boring.” She rolled her eyes at him and sighed.

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” Phil shrugged.

Emily hummed, bring her drink closer to her lips, then back down, “Are you sure there isn’t even a smidge of love there?”

Phil sighed in defeat.

\---

The dance hall was filled with people - couples learning their wedding dance, old flames living on sweet memories, and then there’s Phil and Clint. Two guys who barely know each other, instructed by the bride to enroll her and her fiancé in a dance class - one which they wouldn’t be taking until they get back from Rome.

“Hi, Lily, He’ll be enrolling the bride and the groom for six classes.” He turned to Clint, “Just make sure to pay up front.” 

Clint fished for his wallet and took out his credit card while Phil wandered into the dance hall proper. The couples were talking animatedly with each other, all excited for their lessons. Phil smiled as the sound of smooth jazz disguised their chatter. Some of the older couples swayed to the music, blissfully unaware of the others. 

When Phil was younger, he’d often dreamt about having someone like that in his life. Someone he’d be happy to wake up next to, someone he could slow dance with as many times as he wanted and still have it feel like it’s the first.

But before he knew it, he’d grown up. He’d been jaded by the hundreds of couples who came through his door, demanding the perfect wedding, only for it to end in divorce no later than five years. 

This is why Phil loved planning weddings. Even if it was only for a day, he could create the perfect Happily Ever After for two people and after that was done, he could pretend that they indeed did live happily ever after. He dealt with the happiest part of the marriage.

“Hey, Phil.” Clint said, touching his arm. “You okay there?”

Phil snapped back to reality, nodding. “Yes. I’m fine. Are you done?” 

“Yeah, let’s-”

“Quickly people, get your tootsies out here, pronto.” A man announced as he made his way to the center of the room. “Welcome to the Ramirez School of Dance.  _ I _ am Esteban Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramirez.” He stressed his last name and bowed when people started clapping for him. 

“Here is what I would like, you peoples, couples, dancing partners, paired up in twos, ready to dance - not next week, not tomorrow, but right now.” He walked around the room, forcing couples to face each other. When he got to Phil and Clint, he pushed them both towards the center, with all the other couples, “Quickly peoples. I’d like for my grandmother to still be in power when this is over.” 

“Oh, We’re not dancing-” Phil tried to say.

“Obviously, what we have here is a fear of dancing.” Mr. Ramirez gave them both a pointed look. “And it is my belief that we must conquer our fears. Even if it is deadly.” He went back to the front of the class, leaving Phil and Clint standing awkwardly in front of each other. “Now, I have to gauge what I’m working with. So I will play music, and you will dance.”

Clint snickered, “Don’t tell me you can’t dance.” 

Phil pouted, “I can.” then, as if as an afterthought, he added, “Just not that well.”

“Phil, can I have this dance?” Clint asked, holding his hand out in invitation. 

Phil took it wordlessly as the song started to play. Clint pulled him close, and put his hand on Phil’s lower back. Phil put his hand on Clint’s shoulder just as Clint started to lead, swaying them in tune with the music.

“So, from a scale of secret ballerina to retarded string bean, how’s your dancing really?” Clint smiled, staring at Phil’s face - not that he had much of a choice when they were this close. “‘Coz honestly, you don’t seem that bad with dancing.” 

“That’s because you’re the one leading.” Phil pointed out. “If I lead, you’d be black and blue before the song ended - or at least your feet would be. So, yeah. Slightly retarded string bean would be my best bet.” 

Clint chuckled softly, letting his head fall back a little and giving Phil a view of his tan neck. Phil coughed, trying to keep his focus on the dance steps, “Where’d you learn how to dance?” He asked instead, filling the silence that was starting to choke him.

“Ballroom class.” Clint shrugged. “I was eight, and my mother wanted me to be Fred Astaire.” 

“And you didn’t?” Phil asked.

“Like I said, I was eight. I wanted to be Robin Hood.”

“Chaotic Good, huh? Strangely enough, I can see that.”

Clint barked out a laugh, “I’m not exactly the hero type, Phil.”

“You’re not the villain type either.” Phil pointed out.

“I could be, you just don’t see it ‘coz I might be luring you into a trap.”

Phil started laughing in earnest this time. “Well, I know Robin Hood wouldn’t stand for injustice.”

“Robin Hood is an ass. He steals things for a living. Like, literally. He says he steals from the rich, and gives it to the poor, but before he does, he takes some for himself. Last time I checked, that’s stealing.”

“Oh no, Robin Hood took money from the rich to keep himself from starving. What a horrible, horrible man.” Phil said, his voice bleeding with sarcasm. “I’ve lived all through high school and college on comic books. I can do this argument all day, Clint.”

“Yeah, well…” Neither Clint nor Phil noticed they were slowing down. Neither really cared. “You stepped on my foot.” He said instead, without even looking down. 

Phil did, trying to reposition his feet farther, but Clint’s hold wasn’t exactly letting him go far. “I did? I’m so sorry-”

“It’s okay, just don’t let it happen again.” Clint teased, making Phil look at him with mock anger. They were just swaying now, not really sure if the music was still playing in the background.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Phil said, intending to sound threatening, but only managed to look overly fond because of the smile slowly creeping on his face. 

Phil wasn’t sure what was pulling him closer to Clint, but whatever it was, it was strong. It was also slow. He looked at Clint and he couldn’t help coming closer - like a moth is to flame. He was starting to get addicted, he just knew it, and he didn’t want to stop. He never wanted to stop. 

In fact, Phil was absolutely sure that they were going to kiss any second now - their lips were inches away, for pete’s sake - when Mr. Ramirez clapped his hands and broke the spell. 

They parted awkwardly, as if they were caught doing something they shouldn’t have been, and listened to Mr. Ramirez instead. Well, Clint listened. Phil tried but there was just too much going on in his head at the moment that he allowed himself to space out for a while. 

\---

Clint tried not to think about their almost kiss too much.

He knew that if he did, he might ‘accidentally’ end up in front of Phil’s door all the way in Scarsdale to beg for Phil to finish what they started. It’s not like he was against the prospect of having Phil’s lips against his. Far from it, actually. 

He was more concerned about what Natasha might do to him if she ever found out that he tried to kiss her wedding planner. Natasha might look beautiful, but she’s the dangerous type of beautiful. Clint never wanted to suffer her wrath, thank you very much.

Aside from that, Phil was married. Clint might be an uncontrollable flirt but he’d never intentionally break up a couple. That’s just deserving of a special place in the seventh level of hell kind of asshole thing to do and Clint didn’t roll like that.

Still, he couldn’t possibly have imagined that almost magnetic pull he felt when they almost kissed. That kind of attraction... you can’t fake that. 

It’d be easier to deny the attraction he felt for Phil if the man tried harder at being unlikeable, but no, he had to be the most likeable person in the world, didn’t he? He had to have a gorgeous smile, and bright eyes. He had to be ridiculously hot in his suit. He had to be a total BAMF even when he’s talking about flowers. He had to have that kind of smile that you just knew was special when you saw it. He had to be an adorable dork on top of all of this.

Why? Why was this Clint’s life? Why was it that whenever something good is about to happen to him, there was always something in the way? Wasn’t it possible for him to get one good thing without having to go through all the drama that his life required of him? Was that really too much to ask for?

_ This. _

This is exactly the reason why Clint tried not to think about their almost kiss. His mind went into a rant about why he couldn’t have Phil, why Phil was so perfect, followed by endless complaints about his life which were practically unfounded. 

It was best not to think about that stupid almost-kiss at all.

\---

Week four of Natasha’s pre-wedding honeymoon was not any easier for Clint. There were still some details that needed confirming - for the wedding, the bridal shower, and the bachelorette party. Plus, he still had to accompany the bridesmaids to the store where they had their gowns custom made. He didn’t really see the point of his presence there, but Pepper insisted that the Maid of Honor had to cover every aspect of the wedding  _ especially _ if the bride wasn’t there to do it herself. 

Which was probably why he was just thankful to get a call from Tony asking him to come over. Usually, Clint would’ve second guessed Tony’s intentions because Tony only ever emerged from his workshop when he had work to do that didn’t involve inventing shit, or if he was about to get shit faced. 

Right now, getting shit faced sounded like a good idea to Clint.

“Clint! I haven’t seen you in forever!” Tony exclaimed with open arms. 

“You saw me last week, you moron,” Clint teased even as he hugged Tony. 

“Yeah, that’s forever in Stark time, Barton.” Tony walked towards the inside of his huge penthouse apartment with Clint under his arm. “And Stark time is the best kind of time,” he reminded the blond.

Clint scoffed. “What the hell is Stark time?” 

“Time only I can afford, which is why it’s precious. Do you have any idea how many things there are in the world that only I can afford?” Tony started to rant - which usually meant that he won’t stop until he’s distracted by something shiny. “I mean, not to brag, but I’m richer than some countries. Exactly how many people in the world can say that?”

Clint rolled his eyes at the genius, he didn’t really need to hear this speech again. “Why did you call me here, Stark?” Clint tried to get him back from ranting.

“Oh yeah. I needed your opinion on something.” Tony raced down the hall, standing in front of one of the rooms. He bounced on the balls of his feet as Clint walked towards him. “Walk faster, bird brain.” 

“I’ll get there when I get there!” Just to spite Tony, Clint walked extra slowly. 

Tony groaned every few seconds in annoyance, and Clint delighted in it. When he was finally in front of Tony and the door, he crossed his arms over his chest, as if he’s the impatient one. 

“Okay. So I tried asking Bruce what would be the perfect gift for Natasha and Bucky on their wedding day, but he proved to be as useless about this stuff as I was, and Rhodey is being a baby and will not answer his phone-”

“Isn’t Rhodey on a classified mission for the US Government?” Rhodey was going to be back in time for the wedding, of course, but as of the moment, none of them knew where he was.

“Not the point. I gave him an untraceable phone for exactly this type of emergency. Anyway, this is why I called you here.”

“Wouldn’t asking Pepper be a better option? She probably knows what an appropriate wedding gift is.” 

Tony groaned, growing even more impatient with each question. “Yes. But she told me to ask you since you know Natasha better and would probably know which present she’d like better. So could you just shut up and choose one?” Tony opened the door behind him to a gigantic room filled with things every newlywed needs and then some. Clint was pretty sure the only thing missing in this pile of gifts was an actual house. 

Clint stared openly at the almost literal pile of gifts and tried to formulate words to respond with but only came out with “What.”

“Impressive right?” Tony grinned, obviously pleased with himself.

“This is  _ all _ for Tasha and Bucky’s wedding?” Clint asked, picking up a  _ golden _ whisk from one of the many mahogany tables. 

“Don’t be silly.” Tony waved him off, before he started fiddling with a roomba. “Just choose one, and the rest I’ll donate to a charity or something.”

“Seriously?” Clint asked in disbelief, there was  _ at least  _ eighty thousand dollars worth of items here.

“Seriously.” Tony nodded, “And make sure to really look over the items and choose the best one. There’s a lot more stuff there. I’m pretty sure there’s a car here somewhere.” He said absently, walking around to try and look for a full sized car inside his apartment. 

The rich really are hard to understand.

\---

“So this wedding planner dude. You almost kissed ‘im and shit.” Tony slurred a little. “He’s cute, right?”

“Cute wouldn’t be the word I’d use. Maybe adorable is a better fit.” Clint nodded to himself as he poured him and Tony another glass of… wait, what were they drinking again? it was kind of brownish, amber-ish, burned your throat kind of drink. Well, whatever it was, it was good.

He’s not sure how they managed to go from choosing a wedding gift to drinking, but Clint couldn’t really complain at the moment. Say what you will about the man, but drinking with Stark was seriously one of the best things to do when you need to de-stress.

“Those two are exactly the same, you dipshit.” Tony snarked, stealing the bottle from Clint and downing it straight. 

“No they’re not. Cute is something you use to describe a puppy or- or a baby. Adorable is something you use to describe something… adorable. Like Phil for example. He’s very adorable.” Clint insisted, nodding as he explained to Tony. 

“You should just ask him out if he’s so adorable.” Tony pointed out, still clutching the bottle and refusing to share with Clint. “then you should blow him. Everybody loves a good blow job.” 

“Can’t.” Clint stared sadly at his empty glass after he downed all of it. “Natasha’s going to tacs- cats- sac- She’s going to cut my balls off if I make a move on her wedding planner. Plus he’s married. Should’ve seen her man. She’s gorgeous. Can’t compete with her. I’d be crushed. Like my balls.” 

Tony made a sound that was probably supposed to be a  _ psshaw _ but ended up sounding more like a coughing horse, “I can invent you new balls. And it’ll be better balls because I made it.”

Clint made a face at Tony that was as close to disgusted as a drunk man could make, “Tony, you know I love you, man, but I don’t want no balls that you touched, and I don’t trust you that close to my penis.”

Tony shrugged, drinking from the bottle again, “Shame. It would’ve been the best balls in the world.” Clint nodded, whether in agreement or in drunkenness, no one really cared. Tony snorted, then whispered, “Balls of steel.” 

Clint joined him in chuckling. “Balls of steel.” He repeated before they both started laughing loudly. 

\---

Clint groaned as his phone rang - loudly. Sometimes he hated technology. Who was it that decided it was a good idea to give humans the capability to contact each other at the asscrack of dawn?

“Shut up.” Tony groaned from beside him, throwing the nearest he could grope at Clint’s general direction - which happened to be the alarm clock. Irony right there.

Clint agreed with a grunt, blindly feeling for the phone around him. When he couldn’t find it, he was forced to actually stand up and open his eyes just to find the damn thing - which is just a giant pile of no. When he finally found his phone, it was buried underneath couch pillows, he hung himself on the back of the couch like a limp vegetable and answered.

“‘Lo?” Clint silently wished that whoever was on the other side would say ‘Bye.’ 

“Clint? Are you okay?”

Clint had to pull his phone away from his ear to check the caller ID. “Phil?” 

“Yes.”

Clint scrambled to get up, pounding headache be damned, “Yeah, no. I’m fine. What are- What’re you doing calling so early in the morning?” Wallet. and keys. Where the hell was his stuff? 

“It’s 11.” Phil pointed out, his voice tinged with amusement. 

“Yeah, no, I knew that. I just, uh- why are you calling again?” Clint asked, grabbing a pillow from the couch and throwing it at Tony - who was still sleeping on one of the sofas. The genius groaned in reply and glared daggers at Clint. ‘ _ Where’s my stuff?!’ _ Clint mouthed at Tony. 

Tony pointed at the table near the door, where, lo and behold, Clint’s stuff lay peacefully.

“We’re supposed to meet with the wedding photographer today. If you’re busy, I can go there on my own.” Phil offered.

“No! No, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Just text me the address.” Clint hung up and pocketed his stuff. He grabbed his jacket and threw another pillow at Tony. “Bye, asshole.” 

“I seriously hope you don’t get laid.” Tony waved back, with his face still smooshed to the couch.

\---

“You seem different.” Steve noted as he readjusted the light modifiers in his studio. 

“I’m not different.” Phil looked up from the paper he’d been staring at. “How am I different?”

“Well, for one thing, you can’t stop smiling at that piece of paper.” Steve said knowingly. 

“I’m not smiling.” Phil tried to straighten his face, but he can’t seem to get rid of the smile. “I’m smiling.” 

“You are.” Steve agreed, “Which either means something really good happened, or there’s something really funny about that thing you’re reading. And since I know for a fact that there’s nothing funny about a wedding menu; so tell me.” Steve sat in front of Phil, fiddling with a light meter in hand.

Phil sighed happily and shook his head. “There’s nothing to tell.” 

Steve hummed in return, “If that’s true, I would believe you but I don’t so you must be lying.” 

“I’m here! I’m late, but I’m here.” Clint burst through the door with a Starbucks cup in one hand and shades on. 

“Clint?” Steve blinked. “What are you doing here?” 

“Steve. I was asked to be here. What are  _ you _ doing here?” Clint asked back. 

Steve looked around his workspace and narrowed his eyes at Clint. “This is my studio.” 

“Oh, right. You’re a photographer.  _ Wait- _ Phil, are thinking of hiring Steve to be the photographer?” Clint asked Phil who was sitting quietly with his list.

He shrugged at Clint. “He is the best in the business,” he pointed out. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“He can’t be the wedding photographer. He’s the best man.” 

“I didn’t know. I just saw S. Rogers on the guest list. I didn’t think it was actually Steve.” Phil defended.

“Um, I could still be the wedding photographer.” Steve said, raising his index finger in the air.

“I’m not- Does this mean we have to find another photographer?” Clint asked Phil, completely unaware of the fact that Steve has spoken.

“I could still do it.” Steve offered.

“I think it does. I mean, I guess I could call Ivan, but I was so sure that Steve would’ve been perfect for this.” Phil sighed.

“I really don’t mind, I have an assistant,” Steve tried again.

“Yeah, but we can’t expect the best man to work during the wedding.” Clint grumbled, taking a long sip of his coffee.

“Seriously guys, I really don’t mind.” Steve said,

“I know, I know. I’m thinking of other photographers. Just give me a second-”

Steve took a picture of them, blinding them with light, at the same time getting their attention. “Listen. I can do Natasha and Bucky’s wedding. I can do the professional shoot, and during the actual wedding, I can let my intern do that. It’ll be great experience for him, plus he does great candid photos. He used to be a photographer for the Daily Bugle.” Steve said with a smile. “Besides, it’s not like I’d let you hire anyone else for my best friend’s wedding.” He shrugged. 

Clint sighed, “You know he’s right. We can’t possibly expect him to sit idly by while another photographer takes pictures of his best friend’s wedding.”

Phil nodded. “Yeah, but an intern? Are you sure about that? I mean, I could find someone else to help you if you’re underhanded. Someone more… experienced.”

“Trust me, he has the skills for the job.” Steve insisted.

Phil still listed off names of wedding photographers in his head, ready to call at a moment’s notice.

\---

As the day of the wedding drew near, their jobs grew a bit easier. Sure, there were still decisions to be made, payments to finalize, contracts to draw up and sign, but most of it were already done - they were now just waiting for the actual wedding day when their workload is going to more than triple - all except for the venue.

They had narrowed down the venue for the wedding down to two places: the Maleeny House and Garden - which had the most gorgeous garden and brightest flowers; just absolutely beautiful - and the Westerfeld Botanical Gardens - which had their own butterfly sanctuary along with multiple kinds of flowers and plants. 

Which begs the question: Why were they  _ here _ ?

Here, being the middle of nowhere, and in front an old church. Phil studied the architecture carefully, and concluded that the church itself had to be at least fifty years old. 

“Is this the part where he kills us?” Daisy asked as she got out of the car. Phil had almost forgotten that he asked Daisy to come along today, since there was really nothing going on at the office that Jasper couldn’t handle, and Daisy had to take pictures of the venues so that Phil could draw up the proposed arrangements and then send it to Natasha for her to decide. 

“No,” Clint answered gleefully. “This is the part where I torture you just because I think it’s fun, and nobody can hear you scream.” 

Daisy turned to Phil with a raised eyebrow. “ _ You’re  _ crazy if you think I’m going in there after that.” 

Phil rolled his eyes at her and followed Clint inside. “C’mon. He was just kidding.” 

“No I wasn’t.” Clint yelled back, his shoulders shaking from snickering.

“I think I’m good out here, thanks.” Daisy said with finality.

“Fine. Stay here. Alone.” Phil tried to scare her. He wasn’t very good at it. Then again, almost nothing scared Daisy. 

“If the leaves make rustling noises,  _ don’t _ check it out.” Clint warned her as he entered the church. 

Daisy looked back at the bushes and ran after Phil. “Your boyfriend is mean.” She whispered. 

Phil chuckled, but held his arm out for Daisy to take. “He’s not my boyfriend.” He pushed the church doors open and marveled at the inside of the church. It was beautiful. Unlike many of the churches he’s been to before, this church had stained glass windows not of saints or any biblical character but of flowers, standing the length of the floor to the ceiling. The chandelier and the columns looked just as old as the exterior of the church, but it somehow made the place look more elegant. The seats were made of mahogany, and the altar was standing right in front of the biggest stained glass window in the church. The setting sun gave it an almost immaculate glow.

“Father Heigl, this is the person I was telling you about.” Phil had managed to wander through the aisle and up to the altar when Clint reappeared with the priest in tow. “This is Phil.”

“Nice to meet you, Phil,” Father Heigl greeted. “You’re the one planning Natasha’s wedding, correct?”

“Yes sir.” Phil answered with a nod, “If you don’t mind me asking, how do you know Natasha and Clint?”

“Oh, I don’t know Natasha. Clint, I met a few years ago. He got drunk and passed out in one of the pews. I gave him food and water the next day, and the next thing you know, he’s been showing up here every few weeks, telling me stories, sharing his problems.”

Clint shrugged in confirmation. “So, what do you think?” 

“About what?” Phil asked in slight confusion.

“About the church. Perfect, right?” Clint walked a few steps down from the altar and faced Phil. “I mean, if Natasha hadn’t specifically asked for an outdoor wedding, I would’ve suggested this place.” He shrugged again and turned to face the pews. “I mean, look at this place. If you placed like, a white carpet down the aisle, roses and lilies lining the pews, maybe, maybe, um, tie a few purple and white laces around the columns,” Clint headed over to the right side of the church, “And this is where the choir could sing,” He pointed to the other side of the church, “And, over there, maybe strings. Ooh, then, when the uh, wait. I’ll show you.” He grabbed Phil and pulled him in front of Father Heigl, “You stand there, and I’ll stand here. Pretend we’re going to get married okay?” He turned to Father Heigl with a manic sort of energy that was, in all honesty, endearing more than anything. “Father, do the vows bit.” 

Father Heigl seemed a little surprised, but just went with it. “Uh, do you, Clint, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, ‘til death do you part?” 

Clint calmed down a little and smiled at Phil, “I do.”

“And do you, Phil, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, ‘til death do you part?” Father Heigl asked.

“I do.” Phil answered softly. 

“Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you, husbands. You may now kiss the groom” Father Heigl smiled at both of them.

Clint stepped closer and took Phil’s face in his hand. He rolled his thumb on Phil’s cheek for a second before he finally kissed Phil’s lips, feather light. It was far from the kind of kiss that took your breath away, but it made Phil’s hitch all the same. “And then, flower petals would rain down on us just as our lips touched.” 

“That-” Phil cleared his throat after failing to sound like himself, “That’s beautiful, Clint.” 

“Thanks. I’ve been planning it since I found this place.” Clint grinned, “I honestly don’t know how you do it. It took me forever to plan that one imaginary-” Clint froze, and then turned to Father Heigl with a look of pure panic in his eyes. “That wasn’t- We’re not actually married now, are we?” 

As soon as the question left Clint’s mouth, Phil panicked a little too. This wasn’t exactly how he’d planned to get married - accidentally and during a mock presentation. Father Heigl looked lost for a moment before he shook his head. “Oh, Oh no. Don’t worry. You’d need at least one witness for a wedding.” 

“Present!” Daisy raised her arm in the air before she rose from one of the pews she’d been lying down on. “Witness is present and awake.”

“Oh.” Father Heigl pursed his lips in thought.

“Oh f-”

“That sentence better end with ‘fudge’.” Father Heigl warned.

“Fudge my life.” Clint groaned.

\---

“One thing, Clint. I asked you to do one thing.” Natasha didn’t look as annoyed as she could be - which is good - but she also didn’t seem surprised. “What did I ask you to do?”

“Not to fuck with your wedding planner.” Clint answered like a child getting scolded by the teacher. 

“And what did you do?” Natasha asked.

“I married him.”

“Clint, buddy.” Bucky appeared from the side of the screen, his face sideways. “There’s this thing normal people do when they’re attracted to someone before they actually jump the gun... It’s called dating. You should try it sometime.” He snickered.

“Not funny, Barnes.” Clint sneered.

“Um, have you heard your story? It’s pretty funny.” 

“James, go over there and put your pants on.” Natasha pushed his face out of the way while Clint made a face like he was about to throw up. 

“Were you guys having sex before I called?” Clint asked.

“No.” Natasha answered firmly.

“Yes!” Bucky answered from somewhere off-screen. “Fuck you, you cockblock.” 

“Oh god, Tasha, why?” Clint whined.

“Would you have preferred I ignored the call?” 

Clint groaned in defeat, “No.” 

“I’ll be back in a week. Don’t aggravate the problem, Clint.” Natasha reminded him before signing off.

Clint sighed, “I don’t even think that’s possible.” 

\---

Clint opened the door to find his friends there - well, his male friends - carrying bottles of beer. He should’ve expected it, really. Invite a few guys over, and they’re bound to think you’re gonna be drinking.

“Who’s ready to lose some money tonight? ‘Coz I’m feeling lucky!” Tony announced as he entered the room, only for his eyes to be assaulted with tablecloths, ribbons, baskets, and a lot of random shit on the table. “What the hell is this?” Tony asked, gesturing to the state of the room.

“Natasha is coming back in the morning, and her shower is tomorrow afternoon.” 

“Where are we supposed to play?” Bruce asked. 

“We’re not going to play anything until these baskets get done, and everything else in the room gets done.” Clint told them, handing the boys a basket each. 

Thor grabbed one of the bowls on the table and scooped a handful, “What kind of food is this?” He shoved it into his mouth and started chewing.

Clint frowned at Thor as he informed him, “That’s popuri.”

Thor stuck his tongue out, letting the - now damp - popuri out of his mouth. He wiped his tongue for good measure, but Clint would bet that that tasted disgusting regardless of how good it smelled.

“No, I’m not playing with baskets.” Tony threw his basket back on the table with resolution. “It’s poker night.” 

Turns out, Poker Night wasn’t non-negotiable, because as soon as Clint talked them into it, Bruce and Thor were on board with helping him finish the baskets. Tony, on the other hand, clung to his ‘masculinity’ and decided to find the most action-y, testosterone filled movie in Clint’s library. There was no way in hell he was going to touch one of those baskets.

Clint looked over his shoulder to Thor’s basket while he twirled the basket, to wrap it in mesh. “You put bayberry with serenity.” Clint observed. 

Thor glanced at him and placed another bath ball in the center of his basket. “You’re not in favor?”

Clint shook his head, “No, I just thought it interesting. I thought for sure bayberry went with harmony.” 

“Really?” Bruce asked, “‘coz I’ve been putting bayberry with tahitian sunrise.” He raised both candles up to show the other guys with a grin on his face. 

“That, I like.” Thor commented as he picked up a pink ribbon and started curling it with a pair of scissors.

“Yeah, that right there is zen.” Clint agreed. 

“But you know what I like? I like how you put the bath ball in the center. I like it so much, I’m gonna see your ball,” Bruce picked up a bath ball and showed it to Thor, “and raise you another ball.” He made a show of putting two balls in the center of his basket. 

“Oh, that’s a good idea. You should definitely have two balls.” Clint agreed. 

“Anthony. Come and join us.” Thor called out to Tony - who was grumbling by Clint’s DVD library up until Thor called out to him.

Tony walked up to them with Die Hard III in hand, “I can feel my sperm dying inside of me.” 

Bruce rolled his eyes at him. “Be quiet and just sit down. Come on, it’s fun.” 

Tony picked up an empty basket and threw it right back. “I’m going to a strip club to eat some meat. Then I’m going to get into a fight.” He declared, picking up his jacket and leaving the DVD inside one of the baskets.

“Someone’s afraid of his feminine side!” Clint called back. If he turned around, he would’ve seen Tony giving him the finger, but since he didn’t, Tony’s finger remained unnoticed. 

“Call me when you find your balls, Bird brain! Until then, I’ll be in the strip club!” Tony opened the door to find a very attractive blond standing outside. “Or the strip club can come to me.” 

“Uh…” Mr. Attractive Blond said. “Is this Clint Barton’s apartment?” he asked. 

Tony noticed only then the pizza box in his hand and grinned. “This is either the best birthday present ever, or you’re in the wrong apartment to shoot your porno. Either way, I can work with this.” Tony grinned like the cheshire cat. 

Mr. Attractive Blond blushed, and, good lord, wasn’t that adorable? “Nevermind. I think I got the wrong-”

“Steve!” Clint called out, walking towards the door. “Hey. Hi. Come in.” He bumped hips with Tony, effectively shoving him out of the way. “Sorry about Tony. He’s obnoxious. We’ve yet to find a cure.” 

“Hey!” 

Clint ignored Tony and lead Steve to the worktable. “So, introductions. That’s Bruce. This is Thor. You’ve met Tony. Guys, this is Steve Rogers. The best man of the groom. He kindly offered to help with the baskets.” 

The two guys waved at him absently, already concentrating on their baskets.

“I also brought pizza.” Steve said, raising the box a little. It was amusing how the guys’ heads snapped up at the same time at the mention of pizza.

As it turned out, Tony Stark was pretty helpful when given the right sort of initiative. Initiative, in this case, was the eye candy that was Steve Rogers. Tony and Steve had been working on the baskets, talking about who knows what and occasionally laughing, while Thor, Clint, and Bruce were watching them from the living room where they set the pizza down. 

“How long have they been at it?” Bruce asked quietly, as if afraid to let the two hear him. 

Thor glanced at his watch and went back to staring at the two. “About forty-five minutes now.” 

“And they still haven’t noticed our absence?” Clint asked no one in particular. 

They watched as Tony threw a handful of basket fillers at Steve, and Steve threw a bath ball at Tony’s forehead. 

“I feel like if we move, we’ll spook them and they’ll go running back to a cave or something.” Clint said. 

“Maybe we should just let them do all of it. They seem to be enjoying it.” Bruce suggested.

Thor snorted. “They will have thrown all the fillers at each other before they finish a basket.” Thor pointed out. 

“You know we can hear you.” Tony rolled his eyes at them. “This is a pretty small apartment, and sound bounces off of the walls.” 

Clint got up to go back to the table, “Well, we didn’t want to disturb you guys. You seemed like you were having such a good time.”

Bruce and Thor followed him. Tony scoffed at all of them. “Don’t think you can worm your way out of this one Barton. You just wanted us to do all the work while you get all the glory tomorrow, you sneaky bastard.” Tony narrowed his eyes at Clint, “And to think, we don’t even get to go to the bridal shower tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, because you’re not a woman.” Clint pointed out. “I  _ have _ to go because I’m the Maid of Honor.” 

\---

The tables are set up, and the party is in full swing. Clint has outdone himself if he said so himself. All the ladies were having a good time, the baskets are a hit, and Natasha is smiling. 

“Clint this is wonderful. Thank you.” Natasha said once she got the chance. “Did you really do this all by yourself?”

“No, your bridesmaids booked the catering. I just handled the decor, gift baskets, and the entertainment. Phil told me what to do with the decor and the gift baskets. And the guys helped me assemble all of it. So… yeah. Team effort. Yay,” Clint said as he downed another glass of champagne.

“Clint, relax. This is my bridal shower. and you did an amazing job.” Natasha gave him a pat on the back, which was as good as congratulations in Natasha-ese. “Now, about that marrying my wedding planner thing…” 

“Oh, look. The entertainment is here. I should help her get set up.” Clint walked away as fast as feet could take him away from Natasha and her interrogation skills. 

“We’ll have to talk about this eventually,” Natasha called, but Clint was ‘busy’ helping Tami out. 

Tami, as it turned out, was not who Clint thought she was. Actually, she was far from who Clint thought she was. See, he thought Tami was a magician, or maybe an illusionist - hell, Clint would’ve taken balloon sculptor - but no, Tami was none of those. 

“Hello everybody. Hi, My name is Tami. It’s great to see you all. Now, before I begin, let’s all take a deep breath in and now exhale slowly. It’s very important to reset our third eye and connect to the primal inside of ourselves… before I present the pleasure aids.”

Natasha’s eyebrows went so far up her forehead, Clint almost couldn’t see it behind her bangs. The other ladies’ were just as equally shocked as she was. Clint closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, and exhaled slowly. 

“I’m going to kill Tony.” he told Natasha before he headed for the veranda, two champagne glasses in hand. 

He placed the champagne glasses on the ledge and sighed. So many things happened in the last two months, he’s not even sure what to prioritize anymore. All he could do at this moment was sigh.

“Hey.” Natasha greeted as she followed Clint outside. 

“Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t know Tami was a- Tony told me to hire her.” Clint tried to explain. 

Natasha shrugged as she stood beside Clint. “It doesn’t really matter. The girls seem to be having a great time.” She looked back inside to find Pepper studying a riding crop as Tami handed her a pair of leather cuffs. 

“I pity the poor soul who thinks he can tell Pepper what to do.” Clint shuddered at the thought. 

Natasha snorted at that and turned back to Clint with a concerned smile now. “What’s wrong, Clint?” 

“I- I tried so hard to make this special for you. I thought I did everything perfectly.” Clint sighed again, “Figures, I can’t do anything right.”

Natasha hummed for a moment, “Do you know why I chose you to be my Maid of Honor?”

Clint shrugged half-heartedly. “I don’t know, ‘coz you knew me the longest?” 

“You’d think so, but no. I could’ve chosen Pepper or Maria - they would’ve dotted every ‘i’ to my exact specifications - but I chose you.” Natasha smiled at him, her genuine smile, the one that only a few close friends has ever seen. “I chose you because you’re the one who cares about me the most. I knew you would try your hardest to make this as perfect as you could, and that if there were hiccups, it couldn’t be your fault - or you know, at least not intentionally.” She jerked her head towards Tami and smirked. “I chose you to be my Maid of Honor because I knew I could trust you with the most important day of my life.” 

Clint felt the some of the tension in his shoulders ease. “Thanks,” he said in a tone so soft it was almost a whisper.

Natasha smiled, calmly sipping her champagne. “So, are you ready to talk about it yet?” she asked light-heartedly.

Clint downed one of his glasses and closed his eyes. “Do we have to?”

“You’ll have to eventually.” 

“I could just pretend it never happened.” Clint pointed out. “It’ll be easier for everyone.” 

“Not for you.” Natasha told him. “I know you, remember?” When Clint didn’t reply, she gave Clint’s arm a squeeze and sighed. “You don’t have to talk to me about it if you really don’t want to. I just thought talking about it would make you feel better.”

“No, shots will make me feel better because shots will make me feel numb.” Clint answered, then raised the champagne flute to eye level. “Champagne doesn’t really do the trick. I should have ordered shots.” Clint mumbled. 

Natasha remained silent, keeping her word that she wouldn’t ask about what happened, but Clint knew better. Clint knew that pretending not to care about something is Natasha’s way of making you spill your guts to her. Well, it wasn’t going to work this time. He wasn’t going to talk about the thing that happened just because Natasha is pretending not to care. He wasn’t going to give in. He’s a strong independe-

“We almost kissed.” Jesus Christ on a cracker.

“Almost?” Natasha made her way to the bench on the veranda and patted the space beside her.

Clint took his drink and sat next to her. “It was, I don’t know, two weeks after you left for Rome. Phil went with me to the dance school to enroll you guys and before we could get out of there, the teacher pulled us into his class and asked us to dance along, and we did. We were just talking while we danced and he was just really easy to talk to, you know? He has this dry sort of humor that you’d miss if you so much as blinked. The next thing I knew, I thought I saw him leaning in, and I wanted to meet him halfway, you know? Kiss him silly and breathless.Then the teacher clapped his hands and we had to let go of each other. And then everything made sense to me.” Clint ran his hand through his hair absently.

“You know he likes the Mowglis? And he has a 1962 Corvette. He’s also really sweet, and passionate about his job - which is great, but the best thing about him is his eyes. They’re like these bright little marbles that he practically stole from the sky - I mean, even Steve’s eyes aren’t that blue. And somehow, they’re even brighter when he smiles.” 

“He sounds perfect.” Natasha had a smile on, Clint could tell without looking at her face. 

“He is. You also told me not to mess with him.” Clint reminded her.

“Yeah, but when have you ever actually not done what I told you not to do?” Natasha asked, her tone teasing.

“You know, I’m not even worried about the accidental marriage thing because I know it didn’t really count since he’s already married.” Clint said.

“What?” Natasha croaked, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.

“You should’ve seen her Tasha. She was drop dead gorgeous. They have a life and a house together. They might even have children.” Clint hung his head, holding the back of his neck with his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. “What am I gonna do, Tasha?”

Natasha was quiet for a long time, Clint could practically hear the gears in her head turning. “He’s not married.” She said simply.

“What?” 

“He’s not married. He’s gay so he can’t be married to that woman. He came out years ago.” Natasha explained. “So that woman that you saw might be a friend he’s visiting.” 

“You don’t understand, Tasha. You should have seen-”

“No,  _ you _ don’t understand Clint. If Coulson was married, every bride-to-be would know about it.” Natasha interrupted him. “Not to mention every supplier he has would throw him a party. How long do you think he’s been in this business?” 

“Why are you telling me all this?” Clint asked, shaking his head.

“To make you realize that you have a chance and that you should take it.” Natasha shoved him playfully. “Call him.” 

Clint gave her a look that plainly said he thought she was crazy. “Why would I do that?”

“Call him and ask him out.” Natasha rolled her eyes at him. “You might as well, I mean you married him.” 

“That’s not funny.” Clint told her with a deadpan face. 

She wrinkled her nose and tilted her head, “It kinda is.” 

“It’s really not.” Clint sighed, downing the rest of his champagne.

“Call him, or I will.” Natasha threatened.

Clint snorted. “I’m not afraid of you.” They both knew he was lying.

Natasha sighed. “Fine, you asked for this.” Out of nowhere, she brandished Clint’s phone in her hand. Clint’s eyes widened at the sight of his phone, and absently checked his pocket for it only to find that it wasn’t there. When did she even steal his phone?

Natasha already went back inside the apartment, with the phone on her ear, so Clint had to scramble to get his phone back. As soon as he entered the room, he was tackled down by Sif and Maria, cuffed by Jane, and gagged by Pepper - all toys care of Tami. He was then lifted off of the floor and put on one of the chairs and held there by Sif and Wanda. Natasha grinned down at him like the cat that Clint knew she was before Clint heard the phone ring.

Oh god, it was on speaker. 

Clint prayed to all the deities that Phil would be too busy to answer his phone, or that someone stole his phone - just, something. Something to make him unable to answer his phone. 

Phil answered after the third ring.  _ “Clint?” _

Clint tried to say something but the ball gag was stifling him. 

“Hi Phil.” Natasha said sweetly. “It’s Natasha.” 

_ “Oh, hello. Have you had a chance to check over the final details for the wedding yet?” _ He asked completely unaware of Clint’s state.

“Yes, I did. And everything looks perfect.” Natasha checked her nails, and grinned when she saw Clint glaring at her. “You and Clint did a wonderful job!” 

_ “Thank you.” _

“So, listen, speaking of Clint, I heard you two got married.” Clint’s stifles got louder so Natasha had to step back. “I’d like to know why I wasn’t invited.” 

There was nervous laughter from the other line then, “ _ It was a spur of the moment kind of thing. I didn’t get to invite Melinda.”  _

Natasha’s eyebrows quirked up with a smile. “Melinda. Is she your girlfriend, wife, or…?”

_ “Melinda is my best friend. Clint’s seen her, I think.”  _ Natasha gave Clint a mock look of surprise, so Clint rolled his eyes at her.  _ “Anyway, about that thing, I talked to Father Heigl. He said that Clint and I are married in the eyes of God, but not in the eyes of the law, and we have to sign a few things before we’re recognized as an actual married couple. So, yeah, legally, we’re both still single. I just thought he’d want to know that.” _

“Why? Did he tell you something?” Natasha asked, giving Clint a pointed look. Clint shook his head furiously at her.

_ “No, but he looked like he was freaked out by the whole thing. You can tell him he can relax now,”  _ Clint could hear the sad tinge in his voice although the others might not. Or maybe he’s projecting. 

“Oh, Clint’s walking over, wait. I’ll hand the phone over to him.” She covered the phone and leaned down to Clint’s eye level. “Tell him we tied you up, and you’ll be spending the rest of the night in those cuffs.” She threatened then, with a softer tone, she said, “I’m doing this because I love you.” She kissed his forehead, and held the phone in front of Phil’s face. 

Carefully, Wanda removed the gag on Clint’s face. Clint looked at the girls that surrounded him, they looked like children in a candy store, anticipating what Clint said next, and gulped. “Phil, HELP ME! THEY- MHHM MHSH.” Natasha pulled the phone away and Wanda gagged him again.

_ “Clint?”  _

“No, sorry. That was the TV.” Natasha held the phone away from her face and called out. “Pepper, darling, could you please lower the volume on that thing? Clint! Phone for you!” 

Clint watched as the girls stifled giggles. Evil Geniuses. His friends were all evil geniuses. 

Natasha leaned in to Clint again, “I can do this all night, Clint. Just ask him out and we can all go home.” 

Wanda removed the gag, but just enough for Clint to be able to talk. “Phil?”

_ “Clint?” _

“Yeah. What’s up, buttercup?” Clint winced as the words came out of his mouth. Natasha and girls tried not to make snorting noises. 

There was a moment of silence from the other line, before Phil finally spoke again.  _ “Um… Like I told Natasha, it looks like we’re not married after all.”  _

“Yeah?”

_ “Yes, well, yes and no. Legally we aren’t married, but according to Father Heigl, we are… so there’s that.”  _

“Oh, okay.” Clint answered dumbly

_ “Hey, uhm… are you okay?”  _

Clint looked pointedly at Natasha while he said “Yeah, why do you ask?”

_ “That time at the church, you seemed… I don’t know, freaked?”  _

“Oh, I was just thinking how Natasha would kill me if she found out I got married without inviting her. Not to mention the fact that she told me not to hit on you.”

Clint heard a soft crash and muffled ‘ _ shit’ _ over the line before Phil cleared his throat and asked, “ _ She did?” _

Clint could imagine Phil tripping over something and dropping his things because no matter how competent Phil looked, Clint knew that deep inside, he was a giant dork.

He tried not to smile, “Yeah, she said, and I quote, ‘Clint, if you make a move on my wedding planner, I swear I will disown you.” 

_ “She didn’t.”  _

“Well, no, but she did say she was going to uninvite me to the wedding which is almost the same thing.” 

Phil had laughed, and Clint felt proud that he made Phil laugh. He felt that pride turn into courage - or maybe it was the champagne. Regardless of what it was, Clint felt a little braver. After all, Phil couldn’t possibly hate him if he laughed at Clint’s lame jokes, right?

“So, hey,” Clint started, he could already feel his cheeks warm. What if Phil thought he was kidding and laughed at him? What if Phil  _ didn’t _ think he’s kidding and said no? The girls will hear everything. “Your contract with Natasha, that’s a done deal as soon as the reception wraps up, right?” 

_ “Essentially, yes.” _

“That means, you won’t be Natasha’s wedding planner, right?”

_ “And you won’t be her maid of honor, yes.” _

“Well, do you think you’d want to grab a cup of coffee the day after the wedding? Like, a date?”

_ “That’s, like, his two favorite things! Coffee and you! Say yes Phil!”  _ Clint blinked at his phone at the outburst of the second voice.

_ “Daisy, get off the line!” _ Phil barked. There was a sound of a click and Phil cleared his throat again.  _ “I swear, sometimes I think I’m running a daycare here.” _

“Yeah, well, sometimes friends do outrageous things because they love you.” Clint gave Natasha a look that she blatantly ignored.

_ “Speaking from a personal experience?” _

“You could say that.” Clint confessed. “So, anyway, the date?”

_ “Oh, I’m sorry Clint-” _

Clint’s heart plummeted with just those four words. “No, no. It’s cool. I totally get it. I just thought I should ask, you know?”

_ “Clint, wait. Don’t you dare hang up.”  _ Phil said quickly, expecting Clint to have hung up by now - not that Clint could, but he wanted to.  _ “I meant I can’t go on the date that day. I have another wedding to attend to. And before you say anything else, this is me saying yes to you asking me out.”  _

The girls stifled their squeals as Clint tried to process the fact that Phil actually said yes to him. 

“Oh.” Clint blinked. “Uh, yeah, sure. We can, uh, maybe we can talk about it during the reception or something.” 

_ “I’d like that.”  _

“Yeah, uh, I guess I’ll see you then. Bye.” 

_ “Good night, Clint.”  _ Phil said before he ended the call.

Clint’s head was still reeling, which was probably why he didn’t notice that he’s been freed from the cuffs. 

“Clint?” Natasha prompted. 

Clint dazedly looked up to meet her eyes, “He said yes.” then, with a little more gusto, “He said  _ yes!”  _ then, panic as reality set in. “Oh my god, he said yes! What am I going to do? Where am I going to take him?  _ What am I going to wear? _ ”

“Clint, breathe.” Natasha reminded him. “One thing at a time.” 

Clint nodded absently. “Okay,” He breathed deeply and smiled. “He said yes.” 

Natasha smiled back, spreading her arms in an invitation for a hug. Clint gladly took it and held her tight. The girls joined in after a second, making a huge circle of hugs.

\---

The wedding was as beautiful as Phil had described it, even more so because it was now reality. The sky was a clear blue, and purple-ish red as the sun set. They didn’t go with the tent, but the black lamp posts more than made up for that. The flowers were elegantly bright - most of them white, with red flower bulbs dotting the arrangements. They lined the aisle - which was covered with an ivory colored carpet. Red rose petals were also scattered on the aisle and under the giant tree that the ceremony took place. 

As night approached, the many twinkle lights coiled around the tree and the lamp posts gave the ceremony sufficient light to go undisturbed. It also made for a dozen aesthetic photos of the bride and the groom.

And then, there was Natasha. Natasha had on a strapless ensemble that fit her top half perfectly - an intricate design tracing her body was sown on the upper half of the dress. There was a belt looking thing on her waist that sparkled a deep red when the light hit it right and then the lower half of the dress sort of just went  _ poof _ \- the mesh making it look light as a feather. (Clint would bet a thousand dollars that Natasha made it possible so that she could just rip the lower half off and it would turn into a very stylish and appropriate dress in a second.) Her hair was half bunned, letting her bright red hair fall rest on her pearly skin, making for a beautiful stark contrast. 

Natasha was definitely a sight to behold and Bucky was a very lucky man.

“I still can’t believe you do this on a daily basis.” Clint said to Phil when he finally caught the man during reception. 

Phil didn’t look at him, but his smile did widen a bit. “Sometimes, I can’t believe it either.” 

“You did a great job.” Clint faced the same way Phil was to see Tasha and Bucky feeding each other cake.

“You did too.” Phil said, “Well, you know, for a first timer.” He added as an after thought.

Clint scoffed. “I did only cry about this wedding three times and one of those times was during the actual wedding. So I think I get bonus points for that.” 

Phil laughed quietly, trying to maintain composure. 

“You’re so good in fact that maybe I’ll hire you for  _ my _ wedding.” 

Phil snorted. “Given that I’m not retired yet by then.”

“Phil Coulson, was that a jab against my inability to find a date?” Clint asked, turning to the man beside him with a mock scandalized look on his face.

“Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t.” Phil shrugged. 

Clint shook his head at him, “You’ve been hanging out with Natasha too much, I don’t know how, but you have.” 

“Or maybe you’re just easy to figure out.” Phil teased.

“I’ll have you know, I am the most complicated man you will ever meet. I’ll tell you I like something, and the very next day, I’ll hate it. I guarantee that dating me will be the least boring thing you’ll ever do. In fact, I’ll prove it to you. Say, Saturday? Lunch? Daisy tells me you don’t work weekends.” 

“Daisy says a lot of things - and you definitely should not be hanging out with my secretary - but Saturday sounds perfect.” Phil smiled. 

“Perfect, then-”

“Clint!” Natasha called out from the pseudo stage that they had made, “C’mon. It’s time to catch the bouquet.” 

“Duty calls. Be right back.” 

Clint jogged towards the gaggle of ladies waiting to catch the bouquet and stood behind all of them. He wasn’t really hoping to catch it and he was just there because he was the maid of honor, in fact, as soon as Natasha turned around, Clint headed for the nearest waiter serving hors d'oeuvres. 

When Clint turned back around, a stick of grilled prawns in hand, Natasha threw the bouquet and, as fate would have it, landed in Clint’s arms - flicking the prawns out of his hand. Clint was too surprised to fake glee so all he had on when the girls started congratulating him was a face of utter devastation for his prawns. 

Natasha had laughed, evil person that she was.

There’s a superstition about the bouquet that the bride throws during a wedding. It is said that whoever catches the bouquet will be the next bride. Some people do not believe in this superstition, others do, and the rest, well, they just do it ‘coz it’s fun. As for Clint, he didn’t particularly believe in that superstition, but he wasn’t easy to dismiss it either.

Two years later, the superstition will ring true. After months of being together, Phil Coulson will ask Clint to marry him; Clint will of course say yes; they’ll have their wedding at the church where they were first wed, and Father Heigl will, once again, hold the ceremony; Phil will let his niece and nephew be the flower girl and the ring bearer; all their friends will be there; and of course, Natasha will be Clint’s best man.

But that’s another story.

Right now, all Clint wanted to do was to take Phil away, escape the wedding, so they could go on their date. Saturday, after all, was too long to wait.

\--- 

**Epilogue**

\---

Natasha flipped through the photographs in her hand. Steve had done an amazing job with the wedding shoot and she’d expected the photos from the reception to be the same, but as she flipped through the multitude of photos Steve had printed out, all she felt was disappointment. Well, she might be a little impressed, but she was mostly disappointed. 

She flipped through a few more just to make sure that the first ones weren’t just flukes, but no. Picture after picture, in every possible angle of his face, Tony. 

_ Flip _

Tony eating prawns.

_ Flip _

Tony laughing at something Clint said.

_ Flip _

Tony’s profile at the center of the image while Natasha and Bucky cut the cake on the side of the photo. 

Tony. Tony. Tony. 

“What the hell is this?” Natasha demanded, throwing the pictures back on Steve’s desk.

“It’s your wedding photos.” Steve was great with playing innocent, but that didn’t work on Natasha.

“Yeah, so where exactly is the wedding?” Natasha asked, crossing her arms on top of her chest. 

“It’s- It’s there… Somewhere.” Steve mumbled.

“This is all pictures of Tony.” Natasha didn’t think she’d need to point out the obvious to someone as smart as Steve. 

“There are some pictures there where Tony isn’t the sole focus.” Steve tried to defend.

“Yeah, and those pictures either have Tony in the back, or somewhere in the corner.” She easily shot that plane down.

Steve looked properly abashed at Natasha’s words. “You have to admit, he’s very photogenic.”

“Are these  _ all _ the photos?” Natasha refused to answer his question the same way she refused to have a wedding album filled only with Tony’s face.

“Well, yes and no. Those are all of the shots I took. Peter is still editing his.” 

Natasha sighed in relief and leaned back on the chair. After a few moments of silence, Natasha narrowed her eyes at him and said, “You are officially banned from being the photographer of any event where Tony is invited. I hope you two are sickeningly happy together.”

\---

**End**

\---

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I planned for there to be more BuckyNat in the story as well as Stony, but... life happened. The characters would not cooperate and I just... ::sigh:: C'est la vie
> 
> Did you like it? Did you hate it? Comments are gifts. <3


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